


Entries

by AndromedaPrime



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Diary/Journal, Established Relationship, M/M, Mech Preg, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 18,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Megatron's urging, Optimus decides to keep a journal detailing his thoughts and emotions throughout his carrying cycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Solar Cycle - Carrying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eiseedoesit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit/gifts).



> This was prompted a few months ago by the lovely [eiseedoesit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit), who wanted Optimus keeping a little diary of his carrying cycle to give to his child when they fully mature.
> 
> This is a mixture of TF: Prime and Bayverse continuities, especially with the note that Optimus and Megatron are Prime and Lord High Protector. Also, please note that these "diary entries" will not be as long as my usual fanfiction chapters, which average about 2-2.5K words. Each entry will be about 500 words at the very least.

_First Solar Cycle – Carrying_

I suppose it isn’t proper to call this the first solar cycle of my carrying cycle. Ratchet told your sire and I that you are about fifteen solar cycles into development, which makes it fifteen to sixteen solar cycles ago that your sire and I conceived you.

I knew, however, well before our medic Ratchet made the official diagnosis of “gestating a sparkling”. I know my frame very well, and the signs of sickness and the heavy feeling in my spark told me that you were there. That I was carrying. 

I am still in shock. And in awe. I am shocked that _I_ could create and carry life within my frame.

Your sire is in awe, and I believe he has gotten past his shock and surprise. He has been laughing and making his usual jokes, and had the state of processor to suggest keeping a log of my thoughts and emotions throughout this carrying cycle.

I am having trouble doing anything, other than writing this. I am still in shock and awe.

Your sire is currently curled up on the berth next to my frame, gentle servos resting on my abdominal plates. Just now I was finally able to laugh and gently tell him that there is no way that he will be able to sense any movement from you, but if there is one thing you must know about your sire and I: we are both the most stubborn mechs that others have met. And I suppose we have to be, if we are to continue leading Cybertron through the ages.

Your sire and I are old mechs. We are not the oldest on Cybertron, but we are nowhere near being the youngest either. Your sire and I have been in charge of Cybertron for eons now. We had given next to no thought of creating life, becoming creators, until today. We both assumed that with our fairly advanced ages that we might never conceive, and we were both perfectly fine with such a prospect. The leadership of Cybetron is not an inherited position, as Primus will name a pair of heirs to follow in our footsteps when the time comes to pass on the titles of Prime and Lord High Protector.

Given my age and the age of your sire, there is some worry about whether or not you might make it to your birth. The more advanced in age a carrier is, the higher the chances of them miscarrying their sparklings are.

I asked Ratchet what the reasoning for this was. He responded that the older a mech or a femme that wished to have sparklings was, the less likely their frames would be able to adequately supply the needed nutrients to sustain the sparkling.

I sincerely hope this isn’t the case.

Cybertron’s sun has finally set on what was a rather eventful solar cycle. Your sire is now deep in recharge, so I will have to recharge as well. As we are the current leaders of Cybertron, we get hardly any decent recharge, and Ratchet told me that I need as much rest as I can possibly get.

We cannot wait to meet you, little one. We love you deeply already. The moment your sire and I saw your spark pulsing within me, we fell in love with you. And our greatest hope to Primus as of right now is that he will allow us to have a healthy, happy sparkling.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	2. Sixth Solar Cycle - Carrying

_Sixth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

It has been six solar cycles since we discovered your spark pulsing within me. I did want to write in this datapad in the days that have passed between the first entry and this one, but I had no other words to write other than, “I cannot believe I am carrying a sparkling.”

This feels like a prolonged recharge cycle. I half-expect to wake up at any moment and find that your sire and I are not expecting a sparkling, but I hope that does not happen. I think I would be absolutely devastated, being attached to a sparkling that did not exist in the first place.

As I was told to expect, the morning sickness is coming in, and it is coming in extremely painful doses. I can barely keep energon down, and I’m wondering how I can be expected to provide you, my sparkling, with necessary nutrients if I’m purging undigested energon into bucket after bucket.

I’m grateful that your sire is here with me, at the very least. He does not seem very happy to be around me at this time in my carrying cycle, but then again I won’t allow him to say anything. He is not the one carrying you, after all.

I--------

My apologies. I purged on the floor.

Your sire is currently sighing over and over again as he cleans the undigested dregs of energon from the floor. At least he is good for something.

Ratchet told me at my most recent appointment that your spark is growing to be very strong and brilliant, despite my inabililty to keep energon down. He said that at the next appointment, he will be able to determine whether you are a femme or a mech. I am not sure if I wish to keep it a surprise or not.

It is far too early to tell, but in the deepest part of my spark I believe that I can sense your movement already. I feel in my spark that you are going to be an active sparkling, but I can’t distinguish whether it will be physically, just as your sire was when he was a sparking and a youngling, or active in mind as I was. And I believe I can feel the fledging beginnings of our carrier-creation bond.

We are waiting a little longer to tell the populace of Cybertron that their Prime and High Protector will be having a sparkling. We might send out an announcement of my carrying cycle when it becomes physically apparent, or I may withdraw entirely from public duties and appearances until you are born, and only then will we announce your birth. Most of our confidants know, however, and they are very excited to have a sparkling coming. Cybertron’s population has increased so little in recent stellar cycles. Sparklings are a rare thing to survive on our planet.

Cybertronians are an incredibly advanced race of mechanical beings, with our beings scattered on colonies and worlds across the stars, but it is very rare that a spark gets conceived and can live past its first three to five solar cycles. You are lucky to have reached this point, little one.

Did you know that on the occasions that a sparkling is born, your sire and I are obligated to send a note of congratulations to the sire and carrier?

It is strange, now that I think further on it; who will send _us_ notes of congratulations when you are born?

I just asked your sire. He says all of Cybertron.

It would seem that my purging has passed. Though I am carrying, I still have my duties as Prime to fulfill, so I will need to sign off for this solar cycle.

I will write more when I feel it appropriate, and have the time to do so.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime


	3. Tenth Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Tenth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

All of Cybertron knows my condition.

It was not your sire and I that announced it first. We were _waiting_ until we were certain your little spark was stable and healthy enough, until we felt right in informing the planet that we are in charge of.

One of the mechs on Ratchet’s medical team breached his contract that stipulated that he was not to talk about the medical condition of any of the patients that Ratchet treats. The mech told his carrier, who told their close friend, who so happens to know the editor of a very ill-reputed gossip blog. They announced that I was carrying, sending Cybertron into a frenzy.

A cycle, little one. It took a cycle for the plans your sire and I had to be wholly ruined.

Your sire and I sent out the following announcement after the news was released:

_The Lord High Protector Megatron and Optimus Prime of Cybertron have announced that they will be welcoming a sparkling into their family. The sparkling is due to arrive in one hundred and fifty-five solar cycles._

_Both the Lord High Protector and the Prime are ecstatic and overjoyed with the news._

_Optimus Prime is being treated by the resident medics at the Citadel in Iacon._

Your sire is infuriated. He wanted to tear the medic working under Ratchet from limb to limb, but I calmed him before I went to the medic and personally released him from his duties, citing his breach of contract.

Though I do know that medics talk with their families and friends about the medical conditions of their patients, I and your sire unfortunately are in the spotlight throughout our tenures as Prime and High Protector. Any illness we have is fodder for those that make their living off of gossip. It is incredibly unnerving how quickly the news was released without our consent as soon as the medic told his family.

I am only disappointed, and saddened. I feel like I can no longer trust those around me, except for your sire.

No. No, those are not the only emotions I feel.

To be quite honest, I feel like I have been violated. Someone reached into the deepest recesses of my spark and took my comfort, my quiet bonding with you as I came to terms with your existence, and my love for you, and laid my happy secret out in the open without asking for my consent.

Your sire and I cannot keep a secret unless it is strictly between the both of us.

He wanted to blame Ratchet for this transgression but I will not allow him to. Ratchet was only doing his duty as a medic, and it is his duty to inform the medical team he is in charge of that the Prime is in a very delicate condition.

It was their duty to not lay this out in the open. All but one did. The one is to blame for this.

Normally I would not have felt the least bit terrible in letting someone who violated their terms of contract go from their duties, but I felt a small twinge of sadness in my spark when I had to let the mech go. I think this is solely your fault, little one. You are making me soft-sparked.

But for now, since the news has gotten out of my carrying cycle, I will be withdrawing from public appearances and duties. We are getting many gifts and notes of congratulations from the general public.

It is a little bit overwhelming. The last time I got such public attention was the day that Megatron and I were made Lord High Protector and Prime of Cybertron.

I will write more tomorrow, or when I next get a chance to do so. Though I may have withdrawn from my public duties, I am still performing my duties as Prime.

A Prime and a Lord High Protector’s jobs are never fully done. A Prime oversees the government of Cybertron, while the High Protector oversees the military. Neither branch will take a break simply because we wish them to.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	4. Twelfth Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Twelfth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

Ratchet, between his profuse apologies for what occurred, has told me that you are continuing to grow strong. I don’t know how. I am still retching every bit of energon that I try to drink.

But I will not question it. I am merely glad that you are alive and healthy so far.

Your sire is trying his best to take on some of my duties, slowly and surely for when I can no longer perform them. Bless his spark. But he does not have the patience to deal with Cybertronian justice and government. His personality has always been far better suited to commanding Cybertron’s military.

I suppose it is for the best. I could take on his duties well, but I would not be the most effective and quickest at decisions. Justice, government, overseeing Cybertron’s courts is suited to my personality.

Primus, I have to wonder at times how your sire and I could have gotten together in the first place.

When I walked into the Citadel for the first time and saw the large, silver mech with the pointed armor I thought that he might murder me and take all the power of Cybertron for himself. However, it taught me to not judge on first appearances, as your sire is one of the most tender and loving mechs I know. To me, at least.

I remember I mentioned that the positions of Lord High Protector and Prime are not inherited. Rather, Primus chooses a pair of Cybertronians to rule the planet and its workings. Said Cybertronians are then taken to the Temple of Primus at Iacon, where Primus gives them confirmation.

The same thing happened to your sire and I. We were taken to the Temple separately and met for the first time at the Citadel.

We are a strange pair, him and I. He has been described as rough and jagged, personality to match his outer appearance of spikes and jagged silver armor. I have been described as possessing a calming personality that seems to work on everyone. It seems at times I am the only one that can calm your sire when he is in his raging fits.

Your sire worked and lived in the mines of the city of Kaon, one of the more industrial parts of, and unfortunately one of the poorest cities of, Cybertron. I heard talk before he and I were united that he was a rough brute, and many of the High Councilors were asking if Primus was playing a practical joke on them.

In their optics, a rough brute from the mines of Kaon is unintelligent. What could he do to help our civilization?

But your sire has proven them wrong. Underneath the rough frame of his and behind the piercing glare of his optics is a very learned and intelligent, skilled mech that knows _how_ to give orders.

The _when_ part of giving orders was something I had to help him tone down. He has gotten better. He used to order me around as if I were a soldier. I stood up to him and told him that I was the Prime, and his equal. He has since stopped, and if I can pinpoint a moment that he grew to respect me as an equal, it would be that particular moment.

I, your carrier, worked as a data clerk at the Hall of Records in Iacon. I think the High Councilors had no protests to my appointment as Prime. They assumed that I would have no trouble settling into my role as Prime, because I was educated in Iacon and am a highly inquisitive mech.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I did not know what I was doing. Being thrust into this position of being in command of one of the most advanced civilizations in the universe was something I had never looked forward to, something I did not want.

But who am I to question Primus?

We are also a strange pair because it is not a precedent that a Lord High Protector and a Prime unite and become bondmates. In the history of the hundreds that have held these two positions, we are only the fourth set to pair up. And we are just the second set to conceive a sparkling set to be born during our tenures as High Protector and Prime.

My predecessor, and Megatron’s predecessor, did not like each other. Perhaps it is why Cybertron was in a poor state when Megatron and I were appointed to lead, and perhaps it is why Cybertron began to improve after Megatron and I began to cooperate.

Your sire is calling for my help. He needs assistance reviewing a very tricky court case and its documents to give a final judgment in my stead tomorrow.

Please don’t make me retch on my way to the study.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	5. Twentieth Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Twentieth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

I suppose that when you’re older you may want to know how your sire and I came to love each other. I did say how we met in the previous entry – that we were both appointed by Primus to lead Cybertron. Unfortunately I cannot say for certain _when_ your sire came to love me.

But I can say how I came to love your sire.

It took a very long while for the both of us to become accustomed to each other’s faults, quirks, and personalities. I had never encountered a mech like Megatron before, so rash and ruthless and commandeering in personality, and he has told me that he had never come across a calming, contemplative mech such as myself. I feel it safe to assume that in Kaon’s mines, there is no space for a mech of my demeanor. From what Megatron has told me, the mines were not a place for contemplation.

There was a particular meeting with representatives from the various districts of Cybertron. This was two, or three, stellar cycles into our joint rule. We have this particular meeting once every stellar cycle to get updates from the elected council members on the going-ons of the parts of Cybertron that they are supposed to represent.

At this meeting, one of the far older mechs cornered your sire and I with words, questioning how Megatron and I were qualified to rule when we were so young compared to him.

We had heard talk of him before. We were told that he was a very ambitious mech who wanted nothing more than to obtain as much power as he could.

I countered that if Primus chose us, he chose us to lead Cybertron for a reason.

He told me that the previous Prime and High Protector had also been chosen by Primus, and to look at what they had done to our civilization.

I replied that Primus does not guarantee anything fully – that you must also take matters into your own servos, as it was clear that my predecessor, and Megatron’s predecessor, did not. _Am I not fulfilling my duties as Prime to the fullest of my extent?_ I asked of everyone in the room.

Most nodded in assent and praised that Megatron and I were working together to help Cybertron recover from the mess that had been made of it, except for the old mech. He scoffed and uttered something in a dialect of Cybertronian that I did not understand.

It should be noted that this old mech was the representative from the district of Cybertron that Kaon is the main city and population hub of. I know the main Cybertronian dialect spoken around the planet, the dialect of Iacon, and I have picked up some from Kalis and Praxus from time I had spent there in my youth. I did not know the unique Kaonian dialect at the time, so while I did not understand what the mech said, your sire did.

I was startled, as was everyone else, at the speed that Megatron could achieve that moment. He flew across the table and grabbed the mech by his throat, holding him into the air and growling that he was not to disrespect the Prime in such a manner. _If you are to disrespect a mech that does nothing but do his best to respect each and every Cybertronian, you are truly a low mech_ , I remember he growled.

I quickly rose from my seat and placed a servo on Megatron’s arm, telling him to let the mech down.

He did so, but not without a very hostile expression. _If you feel the need to ever disrespect any of the two leaders of Cybertron, you will take me up on the offer_ , he told everyone.

I asked him when we were alone once more what it was that the mech had said.

Megatron told me that he had accused me of performing an act of a sexual nature on one of the priests at the Temple of Iacon, where Primus connects with his oracles and the priests and priestesses to appoint the next Prime and High Protector of Cybertron.

…I will be sure to show this to you when you are older, mature, and can handle topics of this nature.

Though your sire defended me in such a brutish manner that I do not approve of, I fell in love with him then and there. I suppose the feelings had been festering in my spark for a long while, but they came to the surface when he defended me.

If you are curious when you read this, little one, the old mech was not elected for another term to represent the district of Kaon. All these stellar cycles later and I have a sneaking suspicion that your sire was directly responsible for the mech not coming back to serve as a council member.

Your sire has been reading this over my shoulder strut. He has to say something to you.

_Your carrier has already told you how he fell in love with me. I will have you know that I fell in love with him long before that memorable incident with the councilmech from Kaon._

_I would pinpoint the moment that my spark fell for his as the moment that he looked into my optics and did something that no mech or femme had ever done to me before: he demanded that I correct my troublesome behavior._

_Said troublesome behavior? Ordering him around as if he were a worker in the mines, working underneath me._

_As he has pointed out I am a physically intimidating mech, and I am not, was not, used to being told to do something. I was used to ordering others to do something._

_It may not be as eloquent an answer as your carrier’s, but that moment would be it, I believe._

_And, it also helps that your carrier is one of the most beautiful Cybertronians to exist. I felt such a way the first nanoklik that I saw him being led toward me in the foyer of the Citadel. He began creeping his digits into my spark before we even began speaking._

Your sire flatters me. But, it does make me feel a lot better about myself.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron

\--- _Cosigned, your sire, Lord High Protector Megatron of Cybertron_


	6. Thirty-fifth Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Thirty-fifth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

I now feel well enough to write something down.

I woke up purging violently two solar cycles after my last entry. This was a far more violent type of purging and my processors were so foggy and focused only on “why” I was purging so much like never before that your sire was the one to alert me that I began bleeding heavily from between my thighs. Energon mixed with a strange liquid that he hadn’t seen before.

He picked me up and ran with me in his arms all the way to Ratchet’s medical bay, calling him relentlessly on his communication link until he woke up from a sound recharge. Ratchet saw the encrusted vomit around my oral cavity and was about to dismiss it until he saw the energon and the liquid around my pelvic and thigh plating. It was then that he hurriedly woke the rest of his medical team and ordered them to get there now.

I was put under an anesthetic. And I was waking on and off for the past few solar cycles, your sire keeping guard and watch at my side.

I had a severe case of rust infection. Do you know what the first symptom of a rust infection to surface is?

It chose a wonderful point in my life cycle to show up, where it could mask the purging under the guise of carrying.

A rust infection, when it shows up, will begin to attack to weakest parts of your internals, slowly graduating to attacking stronger and stronger parts until the very last thing it can attack is your spark chamber. The solar cycles preceding death are filled with agony as you feel your internals dissolve into virtually nothing.

It had progressed to attack the weakest parts of my frame, of the frame of any Cybertronian.

It began to attack my gestation chamber, making me hemorrhage. The strange liquid that had been mixed with the energon were fluids from the chamber. In my pain, I hadn’t realized that the process of emergence had also begun.

If I had waited another solar cycle… if your sire hadn’t brought me to the medical bay when he did, I would have lost you. We would have lost you.

Your sire read that, and immediately placed his helm on my midsection. “Yes, she is still there. Don’t worry, please,” I tell him.

Oh. Yes.

Ratchet let it slip this morning, when he performed a final thorough exam on my systems to ensure that the rust infection was completely out of my frame. When he made certain that I would live he directed the scan to you, and hummed in approval.

“Despite all this, the sparkling survived, and the early onset of emergence has been stopped. She’s a sturdy little one.”

Your sire nearly fell to the floor. I was shocked but I regained my composure and asked for clarification: “She?”

Ratchet realized his slip-up and looked embarrassed. He nodded and said that yes, you are a femme.

Your sire and I had decided to wait until your birth, but the surprise has been spoiled. Though now that we know we are having a femme, a daughter, we can at least now narrow down a list of appropriate names for you.

We won’t be thinking of names for a while. I still need to recover from the rust infection. Ratchet prescribed that I be strictly on berth rest for the remainder of my carrying cycle. It is already worrying that the rust infection managed to trigger emergence so early into my carrying. Ratchet and his medics were able to stop it and reverse it, but if I exert myself too much it could easily happen again.

And Ratchet said he is not sure how many times more he will be able to reverse it again, should it happen.

I still have around one hundred and twenty more solar cycles to go. I am not looking forward to it, but if it helps to keep you safe, I am willing to do it.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	7. Seventy-eighth Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Seventy-eighth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

It’s been a while since I have picked up this datapad to write in it. I have not had much to say lately. I am still recovering from my bout of a rust infection. Ratchet continues to check up on me, ensuring that I am recuperating well, and on you. There is a very low chance of emergence being triggered so early again, but I am being vigilant and though I _loathe_ that I have to stay in berth at virtually all hours I have to remind myself that this is for you.

Though I loathe this, I’m getting used to it. Your sire brings me datapads on any subject I want, and when he has a spare moment he will come lie with me and we will talk about… anything.

Oh, my sparkling. I’m very worried.

I feel like your sire has been taking on too many duties. I want to ask Prowl or any of our other immediate advisors if they can take on some of his work to give him a brief respite, but your sire tells me not to, insisting that he can do this himself.

He is a strong bot. One of the strongest that I know, but even the strongest have their breaking point.

There have been many times that I would find him asleep on his work datapads, at his desk, literally moments after important meetings with advisors ended and they were escorted out. And then there have been times where I have caught him staring out over the landscape of Iacon, sighing and shoulders slumped.

I have known him long enough that I can read his body language, as I’m well aware that he can read mine. Though he will not say it, I know he is extremely exhausted. Doing my work while I am on berth rest, carrying, and his own work… he can only do so much for so long.

He wouldn’t like that I am telling you this – he has already told me that he wants you to think of him as invincible. He wants you to believe that he will always be there for you, to protect you from all harm that might come your way.

A noble sentiment, one that I echo as well. But, by the time you manage to read this you will know that as much as we may wish, we all cannot live forever.

All we can do is make the best out of the time that we have left with one another.

And I fear that if your sire does not take a break and lessen his load soon, he may not be around for much more time. I have heard of bots that worked themselves to offlining.

If our advisors Ultra Magnus and Prowl are themselves too overworked, we can open two positions up to help them, to spread the workload around. I merely want your sire to rest.  I want him to see you emerge, to see you walk and hear you talk.

I want to see him take you flying. He has to be there for as many milestones of your life cycle that he can be there for.

That’s the last straw. I just heard him trip over something in the study. I’m going to go get him and bring him to the berth – he needs his rest.

Let us hope that this activity won’t require another emergency visit to the medical bay.

Please stay in.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	8. Eighty-sixth Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Eighty-sixth Solar Cycle – Carrying_

I forgot to mention this in my previous entry, but I am at or about the halfway point in carrying.

So now your sire and I, and anyone who sees me in this condition, can definitely confirm that I am indeed carrying. We can also see you move, if we look intently enough. I can now see what you are like: I feel faint movements and twitching, and I can see the occasional turn you make in the chamber.

Before I carried you, I would see this occur with other mechs and femmes. I would watch in mild fascination and horror as one could see their distended abdomens moving as their sparklings thrashed around. I’m grateful that you have yet to move about wildly but to be quite honest… carrying is making me unsettled.

I thought I had overcome it by unexpectedly becoming sparked. It is now apparent that I did not.

Feeling your movement is both a rewarding experience, but also incredibly terrifying. It is rewarding in that I know you are growing strong and healthy, but it is also terrifying because I never once expected that I might carry. My mind is also filled with much self-doubting.

Your sire insists that I’m worrying too much, but I tell him that my fears are well-founded.

As I mentioned previously, he likes to believe that he will always be able to protect you and I, but especially you. And as I have mentioned previously, he will not always be around to do so.

Little one… we’ve both been troubled lately.

As with every reign of a Lord High Protector and a Prime, there are those that believe that they should not have to follow the laws set forth by the two Cybertronians that rule this planet. And, as such, your sire and I have been hearing about a small uprising on the other hemisphere of Cybertron.

It is small, as I said. But it is worrisome, as with every other uprising and movement that aims to abolish the ruling system of Cybertron that your sire and I uphold.

With the previous uprisings, your sire and I managed to quell them without much force. Many times the cause behind such things turned out to be a drought of sorts, a shortage of energon, or lack of available jobs for heads of family units to provide for those dependent on them. We could not stop the droughts, but we were able to remedy the other two, effectively ceasing the restlessness.

This is different, however.

We have heard of the leader of this band before. He is a mech of ill repute. As mentioned, he and his followers feel that they should not have to follow the laws that your sire and I have set forth. However, we know his game very well. He feels he does not have to follow laws that others have made, but he is very power hungry.

That is not all. I overheard Ultra Magnus and Prowl telling your sire that they came across a page on the public feeds for his movement. He and his followers advocate for a total abolishment of all government on Cybertron, and some of the more radical ones amongst his horde advocate for the imprisonment and execution of the “oppressors”.

Meaning, your sire and I. And though you have yet to arrive, there are those that wish ill upon you as well, little one.

Your sire has sworn that if this mech ever comes into the Citadel that he might not leave alive. I cannot say that I wholly blame him. I share his sentiments.

For now all that we can do is sit and wait to hear more of them, or from them. We will have to be cautious.

I can hear Megatron telling the advisors in the next room, the study, to not let me know what has been going on. He doesn’t want to have me stress out, he says. I am not weak, despite my current condition and the rust infection that I am overcoming.

Now I can hear him coming to the berthroom. He looks more exhausted and – dare I say it – worried than I have seen him in recent solar cycles.

A small tip that you might find to be to your advantage when you’re older, little one: if you gently stroke the top of your sire’s helm, he melts under the touch and his engine rumbles in contentment, making it much easier to bend him to your will. It is an instant way to calm him down and to destress him.

I think this discovery I made so long ago is how we have managed to stop many of our arguments in their tracks. When he and I are angry with each other all I have to do is reach up and stroke his helm, and watch as his expression slackens and his optics widen, laugh as he tilts his helm into my servo and purrs softly.

Some time back I wrote that I had to calm down your sire when he wanted to tear that since-released medic for revealing that I am carrying. He was close to storming into Ratchet’s medical bay and tearing that mech limb from limb, but I placed my servo on his helm and guided him to the berth, telling him in a soothing voice that I would take care of it. I still chuckle at the image of the great Lord High Protector of Cybertron, curled up on the berth and humming to himself contentedly.

I presume this information might be useful to you at some later date.

It is time for recharge. Your sire needs a long rest.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	9. Ninety-third Solar Cycle – Carrying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. After almost four months I finally fucking updated. Loss of muse was to blame for this, but I finally wrangled some of it back so I could write this down. I'm hoping I won't go so long between updates anymore, especially since this is supposed to be fully of short journal entries.

_Ninety-third Solar Cycle – Carrying_

Up until a decacyle prior, I and anyone whom I allowed to place their servo on my midsection (your sire and Ratchet only) could feel faint fluttering movements.

Now, you have developed to the point that I feel your movements without needing to focus inward. I am _not_ a fan of your kicks.

You’re a very strong sparkling, as evidenced by the damage you have already inflicted on my internals. I am simultaneously proud and miffed. I know you did not obtain your strength in kicks from me. Megatron is the culprit, and he knows it. He is incredibly proud and smug, strutting around and crowing about how great of a warrior you will become.

 _“She will rival my might in battle!”_ he says every so often. I have no doubt that you will indeed take after your sire, but it would be nice for him to shut up about it. I am tired of seeing him so smug. He wouldn’t be so happy if he were the one being put through such agony. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

Well… perhaps I might, if there weren’t the chance that their progeny would turn out to be exactly as them.

On the subject of our worst enemy, we have been hearing more and more about how he has been trying to solicit those unhappy with your sire’s and my rule to go to his side. There is a small comfort in the fact that not too many seem terribly unhappy with the way Cybertron is being run enough to go with him. We are still cautious, however.

Your sire is planning to call for a meeting with him, when he can learn to reign in his temper. I worry greatly for him and I’ve ordered that he take a numerous amount of guards in his entourage if he does follow through with his plans. He needs to be careful, for we don’t know what he is capable of. He may be one mech with a small army, but we have learned not to underestimate our enemies.

We have taken on more guards to patrol the premises of the Citadel, and no one has missed the addition of two guards stationed outside the front doors to mine and Megatron’s quarters, which brings the grand total to four guards on shift at a time.

When you are born you will also have four guards stationed at your nursery, and you will have two with you at all times until such a threat can be eliminated, or at the very least placated.

You may grow up resenting us for such an action, but believe us when we say that we only have your safety at spark. We would not be able to live with ourselves should something happen to you, especially something preventable.

Megatron and I, despite our anxieties about the state of the world as we know it and the growing discontentment we have been hearing about, eagerly wait for you to show yourself. At this point in time it is all we have to look forward to. We have come to spend our limited time together whispering to each other and wondering what kind of femme you will become.

I hope you come out as healthy as you have been throughout the duration of this cycle. In the end there is nothing more that I can ask for.

Your sire likes to think that you fulfill certain hopes of his. He is already certain that you will rival his might in battle, as I mentioned earlier. Other things he has said include that he hopes you come out with my temperament, my diplomatic abilities, and with my wit and my intelligence.

Just now he cupped my faceplates in his servo, and said “I like to imagine she will come out as beautiful as you are, Optimus.”

Those are his words exactly. They are not mine. I am not nearly as self-serving.

But one thing stands certain: we know that you will be an absolutely incredible sparkling.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	10. Hundred and third Solar Cycle – Carrying

_Hundred and third Solar Cycle – Carrying_

Fifty solar cycles left, give or take a few of them.

I still remember first contracting that strain of a rust infection, and the worry that your spark would not survive, but here you are still fluttering within me, a sign that you are alive and well.

Though I wouldn’t exactly call it “fluttering” any longer.

 _For Primus’s sake_ , could you _cease_ your kicking? I understand you are very excited by the fact that you can now elicit reactions out of your sire and I, or more excited that you can move, but I unfortunately only have the one set of internals. Replacements would be an option, but one I would really rather not take. I would like to emerge from this carrying cycle with as minimal damage as possible.

I imagine you will be delighted to know, when you can comprehend such a decision, that due to your actions I will have my reproductive protocols stopped and my gestation chamber removed. As much as your sire and I love you, I am not happy with the constant movement.

I also have some news, little one. It seems you will be having a playmate.

Ultra Magnus, one of my most trusted lieutenants, is carrying a sparkling. Even more incredible, he is carrying another femme.

Your sire and I had no inkling that he and one of our castle guards and noted weapons specialists, Wheeljack, were together in that aspect. Nor could we have guessed that they had bonded a long while back. He and Wheeljack are almost constantly at each other’s neck cables when there are others around, but it seems that that is not the case when it is merely the both of them. Ultra Magnus has a slightly happier countenance, as does Wheeljack.

In the very least, you will not be alone growing up.

Megatron has just barged into the room.

He’s in a rage. I have not seen him this angry in a long time.

Oh. Oh Primus.

Praxus has been overrun by the rebels. Main communications through the Grid have been cut off, but Prowl, our resident Praxian, still maintains limited contact with his family in the city.

I am hearing the leader’s name thrown around in an infuriated tone.

“He will pay. Waveblast will pay for his crimes.”

I am angry but I cannot let that get to me. Megatron feeds off my emotions, and I feed off his. However, I also have to think about your wellbeing. Ratchet has said that too much stress on my systems will still give me a chance to lose you. That is something I’m not willing to let happen.

“I believe that it may be time to call for a meeting,” he has just said, after a while of composing himself. I stroked his helm during this while, calming his spark, for he makes horrible and irrational decisions when he is angry.

He and I balance each other well. I believe this is why Primus may have had us end up together, politically and personally.

I have again reminded him to take many guards with him. I know the one thing he has to look forward to the most is your birth.

My duties to Cybertron are to rule with a wise and just mind and spark. My duties to Megatron, my mate, are to be faithful to him, as his duty to me is to be faithful to his mate. My duty to you, my daughter, is make sure that you and I get to meet each other, carrier and sparkling.

Another duty of mine is to make sure that you get to meet your sire.

I will have to put this datapad down for now. It is time to talk things over with your sire to determine our next course of action. If there is any way possible that we can prevent your sire from having to come optic to optic with this mech, Waveblast, I will jump on such a possibility

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	11. Hundred and eleventh solar cycle – carrying

_Hundred and eleventh solar cycle – carrying_

The berth-rest sentence has been lifted, with restrictions. I am allowed to meander about the level that the Prime and High Protector chambers are, but I cannot go any level above or below.

That is just fine by me. The private study and the library are on this level, as are the private crystalline gardens.

Many stellar cycles prior, during the reign of Sentinel’s predecessor, a small bead of crystal became lodged in the side of the Citadel and seemingly overnight it sprouted into the gardens we see now. There had been attempts to remove it, but nothing came of those attempts. The gardens are simply too beautiful.

All that can be done is maintenance to ensure that their growth does not compromise the structure of the Citadel.

I am currently in said gardens, seated amongst a pair of busts, carved of crystals that your sire had shaped to look like him and I. I must make a note here – there is a new cluster of crystals that has sprouted at the other end of the garden. When I am able to I will have to commission a sculptor to forge your likeness from the crystals and place it with the likenesses of your sire and I.

Ratchet is hovering over me, watching my every move with rapt optics. He also keeps a scanning instrument close by to monitor you and I, and to make sure that nothing is amiss.

The lining of the gestation chamber has strengthened considerably since my bout with the rust infection, which is the reason why Ratchet said it might be a good idea to get up and walk about. Just in time, too. I was getting extremely tempted to break this datapad over your sire’s helm, out of nothing but sheer boredom.

In ten more solar cycles your sire will be taking off with a contingent of guards and some of our advisors. Ultra Magnus is exempt, as he is carrying and it is now becoming very obvious. His daughter will be quite big, to say the least. I am extremely grateful that you are standard sized.

Quite frankly I am displeased that we couldn’t come up with another course of action, short of declaring them a threat and taking them out. I have told your sire to keep his anger in check, and have told the guards and advisors going with him to make sure he does so. I would go with him if I weren’t so gravid, as would Ultra Magnus. However, our current conditions make such an endeavor very difficult on our frames.

I’m very worried. But I am praying for the best.

I saw you, little one. This morning when Ratchet lifted the berth-rest sentence, he allowed me to see you. You have grown so much, and with the clarity of the hologram that Ratchet cast, we were able to tell some of the features you have.

From what we saw, it looks like you have my antennae and my servos. Your sire and I weren’t able to decide on whether or not you had my pedes or his.

He hopes you have mine. Rather, he hopes you are a miniature copy of me.

I was also glad to visit the study and the library for the first time since the rust infection. The study is sadly in disarray as your sire was the one keeping up with all the reports. The library, thankfully, is still clean and neat. While your sire is away I will be occupying myself with the library.

Tucked in a small corner of a shelf are some datapads with legends of ancient Cybertron in them. Sadly we do not possess any datapads for sparklings, but I think you might enjoy these legends of old as berthtime stories.

Oh, you have begun your kicking again. I will have to put the datapad away and continue walking so you may calm down.

You seem to like the walking. You hardly kicked me, perhaps once or twice, when I was going around in the library and the study. Now I know what I can do to calm your impatient self down when you start to smash my internals with your pedes.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	12. Hundred and twenty-fourth solar cycle – carrying

_Hundred and twenty-fourth solar cycle – carrying_

You’re pushing up into my intakes. It’s very difficult for me to take air into my frame now.

I didn’t think such a small creature could cause such changes in my frame, but I have been proven wrong.

I feel everything that you are doing. I feel your twitches and flutters, your movement, when you stretch.

Most of all, I feel your emotions. Our creation-creator bond is strengthening so that it is no longer something small and almost indecipherable, tucked away at the back of my spark. It is at the forefront. I can feel your emotions of excitement, anxiety, curiosity.

When I speak aloud, your spark almost goes still, and then I am overwhelmed with a pouring of love and affection. Lately, when you have made it difficult for me to recharge at night, the mere sound of my voice speaking to you seems to calm you some. I hope this also works when you are here, crying at night and keeping your sire and I from getting a proper recharge.

At my check-up earlier this cycle, Ratchet informed me that you are at the point in gestation where you have a significant chance of surviving if you were to come prematurely. My anxiety over seeing you to a safe delivery has lessened, but it is still there. I would much rather wait the next thirty or so stellar cycles and ensure that you come to us safe and healthy.

There is not much time left to go, all things considered.

Your sire left three solar cycles ago. I was not able to venture to the ground floor to bid him goodbye, so we laid in berth together and held onto each other until he had to depart. I wanted to beg him not to leave, but I know in this instance he has a duty to Cybertron that he must fulfill.

I miss him already. He will likely be gone about five solar cycles, so in about two solar cycles he will be back. I look forward greatly to his return. This is the longest that we have been separated in our many stellar cycles of bondship. He sent me a short message a little while ago, saying that he missed us. “Us” meaning you and I.

Before he had to depart he cupped the swell of my midsection and placed a kiss on it, murmuring that he would bring back trinkets for you.

At the very least, I have you for company.

I will have to make myself content with reading and the occasional walk when you get extremely impatient and start to kick. The walks are very soothing to both you and I.

Flight near the Citadel has been forbidden – a few solar cycles ago someone evidently climbed a nearby edifice of almost the same height (and there are many) and took an image capture of Ratchet and I when he was helping me walk around in the gardens. They submitted it to the same gossip columnist that initially broke the news of my carrying. Megatron, again, was furious. This was the first image capture of me in my current state. I had been confined to the interior of the Citadel virtually since the beginning of it.

I am not as upset. I have accepted that your sire and I are public figures and every action of ours will come under scrutiny.

Oh, alright, _alright,_ I will get up. You’re extremely fussy, are you aware of that?

Just as the walks help you now, I hope the walks will also work to calm you down when you don't allow your sire and I to recharge.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime

* * *

I had believed I was done for the solar cycle but I am not.

Polyhex has been taken.

Prowl, one of our two advisors that were left to take care of matters in your sire’s absence, just came in and informed me of the news. Prowl is visibly agitated.

I am agitated too. Your sire and his contingent of mechs and femmes were nearby Polyhex when we last spoke.

I am trying to reach out to him through our communication link, but he has it shut off. He has his end of our sparkbond closed off as well.

At least I know he is still alive, as I would have felt agonizing pain if he were not. However, he does not understand that the more I am kept out of matters, the more worried I become. In my instance, ignorance is not bliss.

I am sorry, little one. I am sorry that this is happening.


	13. Hundred and twenty-eighth solar cycle – carrying

_Hundred and twenty-eighth solar cycle – carrying_

I am not happy.

It seems that everyone is keeping news from me. I have heard nothing more of the siege of Polyhex. Thank Primus, your sire and the group he took with him are perfectly safe. They are not here in Iacon – they sought refuge elsewhere, but your sire won’t say where.

And I have a suspicion that he told Prowl to keep me in the dark about everything that is happening. After telling me of the siege of Polyhex, Prowl refuses to share any further information with me. Funny. He was perfectly willing to let me know what was occurring when he first told me about the siege.

Ultra Magnus has been left in the dark as well. He and I are alike in that we don’t take well to not being updated on information.

We may be carrying, but we are not fragile creatures, for Primus’s sake. Terrible things of this caliber have happened on Cybertron before, and we have soldiered through them just fine.

The uncertainty of what is going on is what is distressing me. Far more than anything that could possibly be going on would distress me. My processor will imagine the absolute worst.

At the very least, I take comfort that your sire and his group are alive.

That still does not make this any easier.

As I am not allowed to resume my Primely duties as of yet, I have cooped myself up in the library and begun rereading the history of Cybertron, starting from the tales of the time to creation to now. I’d forgotten how very comfortable these chairs are. Yesterday Prowl and Ratchet found me deep in sleep on the lounge seat with a stack of datapads on the floor beside me.

They were frightened that something had happened to me. I wasn’t answering their communication pings due to my recharge.

Oh. You have dropped lower toward my pelvic area. It’s not as difficult to take in air.

The kicking still continues. This will not do – I enjoy lying down and reading, and you enjoy the walking. Thank you for not kicking at this moment. I am having too much fun reading about the lore of the Primes and the great warriors that descended from their lineage.

Your sire and I have already decided on your designation. By the time you will be reading this, you will already know it.

I just hope to Primus that when the time comes to birth you, I will not be in so much pain/euphoria that I completely forget what I wanted to give you as your name. And should that be the case, I hope your sire remembers the designation in my stead.

I looked back at the very first entry in this datapad and noted how amazed your sire and I were when we received the news all those solar cycles ago. I still remember being so shocked that your sire and I managed to create a sparkling.

To be quite honest, I’m still shocked. We had talked about the prospect of sparklings at the beginning of our courtship. I wanted one. I told your sire so, and that this was not a subject to be taken lightly. If he and I differed on the matter, we would not be together this day and you would not exist. I remember he mulled over it in his processor, then he took my servo into his and said that he would only create new life with me.

 _“If you want one,”_ he said, _“then so do I.”_

We put it off for a few stellar cycles, to become used to each other and to get a handle on leading Cybertron. When we felt ready, we agreed that I would do the carrying. So we tried. We tried, and we tried, but nothing came of our attempts.

After a few stellar cycles of failure we decided to call it quits. Clearly Primus did not want us to have a sparkling.

Little did we know that Primus did not want us to have a sparkling _then._ I assume he wanted us to get more comfortable with one another and in our roles as High Protector and Prime before he decided to turn the cards in our favor.

Whatever Primus’s reasoning might be, I am glad that he saw fit to grant your sire and I the chance to have a sparkling.

Ultra Magnus has just entered. He looks absolutely miserable.

In the past few solar cycles, the both of us have confided in each other about our worries concerning our carrying cycles. He shares much of the same worries as I do.

Oh Primus, I hope you and his daughter get along, just as he and I are kindred spirits.

Magnus has suggested a stroll around the uppermost level. I envy that he can go up and down steps when I can’t. He might have to help me walk.

I will read to you later on, little one. And I will update this if I hear any further news of your sire.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	14. Hundred and thirty-fourth solar cycle – carrying

_Hundred and thirty-fourth solar cycle – carrying_

Your sire has made it back safe and sound, as has everyone in his group.

Waveblast had agreed to meet with them to discuss the terms for a cease of the siege of Praxus. Instead his followers descended on Polyhex while your sire was passing by there. We can only presume that they had hoped to capture your sire.

I don’t want to think of what they might have done to him, knowing that some of his more radical followers wish death on him and I and on you.

They took refuge in an abandoned quarry. Your sire’s knowledge of Cybertron’s abandoned mines has again proven extremely useful, all these stellar cycles after he’d been taken out of that stifling work environment.

There is an underground network of tunnels all over Cybertron, and he led them back into Iacon. It must have been a sight to those that were on the ground level, seeing part of the street explode as High Protector Megatron used his cannon (I had told him to not take any weapons of that caliber with him, but I stand corrected) to blast a hole for him and the rest of his group to climb out of.

I am glad your sire is back. I held him in my arms for a long, long time, stroking his helm as he stared at the ceiling above our berth. He kissed the swell of my abdomen and said that he was sorry that he was unable to bring you anything from his journey.

He has sent out warrants for Waveblast and his immediate associates. The sieges of Praxus and Polyhex are now over, but only because he and his followers have left and fled into the badlands, scattered amongst the mountains and the valleys.

Security around the Citadel has been tightened. The amount of guards stationed outside our quarters has increased from four to eight.

And your sire has brought out his collection of blades and cannons so they are within easy reach. I am trying to be less worried about all of these going ons, but I have concealed my blades in a small, hidden compartment under the berth.

There is an uneasy air around the Citadel. I have taken to closing myself off in the library and reading to you and reading to your sire when he needs comfort.

We had planned to put you immediately in a separate room, a nursery, but your sire and I have agreed to place your sparkling berth with us until you are older.

And until this threat has passed and we are no longer in fear for our lives, and for yours.

Ratchet told me that you could possibly come at any time. The hundred and fifty solar cycles is only an average for most carrying cycles – in reality most are a few solar cycles more or less. My impatience has increased, as has my anxiety.

The thought of giving birth is suddenly more frightening than it had been, but I suppose it is because it is so close now. I am glad your sire is here, so I may yell obscenities at him when the emergence cycle begins. There was a possibility that he wouldn’t have been able to make it back.

It is getting late, little one, so I will be turning off this datapad and slipping into recharge.

Your sire is not back yet. He slipped out a little while ago and told me there was some commotion on the ground and that he was going to tend to it, but for me to not worry.

Of course I still worry. I’m hoping that recharge will stave off those worries.

I will update more tomorrow, I hope.

\---Signed, your carrier, Optimus Prime of Cybertron


	15. Chapter 15

_You live, little one._

_You are alive. Your carrier and I were scared. We have never been so full of worry and fright in our life cycles._

_He is deep in recharge right now. I am looking at you in your artificial incubation chamber, watching your chassis rise up and down._

_I have survived many life-and-death situations in the mines. I escaped a possible hostage situation and led a group back to Iacon. I was not scared in those instances. I will never forget the terror I felt when I saw your carrier beaten so severely, a blaster hot and ready to fire into his processor._

_Words cannot properly describe the intensity of the rage that fueled me as I swept in with a roar. I don’t remember much but the next thing I recall was gathering your carrier into my arms and kicking a pair of severed helms out of my pathway as I hurried to get him to the medic._

_The stress and the physical trauma that your carrier endured triggered the emergence cycle. I was told to expect a lot of yelling and screaming from him during the process, but I did not think that a copious amount of spilled energon and liquid and the sight of your carrier beaten, tip of one antenna broken off, would accompany the yelling._

_You screamed even louder than your carrier when Ratchet pulled you from his frame. One scream and then you fell silent._

_Though he was gravely injured and his energy reserves almost gone, your carrier reached for you, crying and begging to hold you. Ratchet passed you to me, saying that he and I had to be quick because he needed to put you in an artificial chamber._

_When he had you secured in his arms, he pressed his lipplates against your helm crest and his entire frame shuddered as he held back sobs. A moment later his body went lax and I had to wrench you free from his grip to give you to Ratchet. I watched as he pulled a small incubation chamber up to your carrier’s berthside and placed you inside._

_Your carrier turned his helm to look at you again, then fell into emergency stasis. He’d kept his systems online to bring you into this world and to hold you at least once before he couldn’t any more._

_I feared he and you would go offline. I believe I would have burned all of Cybertron to its very core such a thing had come to pass. I would have paraded the captured rebels through the streets of Iacon and forced everyone to watch as I ripped their sparks out of their chests with my bare servos. With you and your carrier gone I would have no reason to hold back my legendary temper._

_When your carrier came out of emergency stasis, I shared what I would have done with him, had the worst come to fruition. He weakly raised a servo and slipped it into mine._

“There is no need for such drastic action, Megatron. She and I live. We are here.”

_Oh how I missed the sound of his voice, the look in his optics, and gentle touch of his servos. His calming nature is what keeps me from brutally taking the lives of those that tried to end yours, his, and mine._

_For now they are secured in the cells below the Citadel, awaiting the time of judgement._

_It was three cycles that he was in stasis. In those three solar cycles I held you and counted your small digits and mourned that you have my awkwardly large pedes instead of your carrier’s less-large ones, though I know you will grow into them as I did. I watched your small chassis rise up and down in your incubation chamber as it helped to strengthen you._

_It has been four solar cycles since that night. The sun rises on Cybertron and there is a cleanup underway._

_Your carrier is alive and in much better spirits than he came into the medical bay with._

_He awake now, and he is gripping my servo in anticipation. This will be the first time he will get to hold you since that night._

_Ratchet is here, opening the chamber. Your carrier has reached in and grabbed you, holding you to his spark. Counting your twitching digits, laughing quietly at your pedes, stroking the gentle face you have that mirrors his and the antennae that you have inherited from him._

_I am in love with the way he looks at you. In his and my optics you are the most precious being alive. Hold us to our words – we will do anything possible to protect you, Andromeda._

_I will set this datapad aside for your carrier to continue later. For now I am going to hold both you and him in my arms and curse those that tried to take you both from me._

_\---Signed, your Sire, Lord High Protector Megatron of Cybertron_


	16. Age: Twenty-six solar cycles

_Age: Twenty-six solar cycles_

There was a shadow in the window a few kliks ago. The shining light from the sun that bounces off the moon and comes onto Cybertron grew dark, and in my recharge my sensors noted the change in light intensity. I woke up and I cannot go back to recharge.

A small drone patrolling the perimeter of the Citadel turned out to be the cause of the shadow. With every shadow out of the corner of my optics and unfamiliar noise that my audios pick up, I jolt. The events of that night are still so very fresh in my processor. I cannot enter the quarters that were once shared with your sire. The quarters that were originally going to be your nursery has become both yours and my temporary one. Your sire refuses to sleep without me there, so he has taken to sleeping on the floor next to the small berth that I recharge on each night.

Each solar cycle that I have been out of the medical ward I make an attempt to enter but… I cannot.

Your sire had the mess cleaned, the flooring redesigned, and the berth and other objects in the room moved around. He is in the process of having the doorways to the private washracks and the doorway between the study and the berthroom redesigned and moved so the room will be different. However I can still pinpoint where on the floor I was forced to kneel, even with all the changes.

I thought I would not live past that night. I thought I was going to be forced into eternal stasis there on that floor, a blast to my helm ending both of our lives.

Not long after I drifted off into recharge I was woken by the sound of thunder, or rather what I _thought_ was thunder.

It was low and rolling, getting louder as more nanokliks passed by. It took me a while to realize that it was a large crowd storming the interior of the Citadel. Some were racing up the steps to the private quarters.

I got out of berth as quickly as I was able to and ducked into a corner, grabbing a blade from where I had hidden them.

The length of my carrying cycle was nothing compared to how long I felt I had to wait for something to happen, but when it did it was all a blur. I remember a horde of strange mechs bursting into the room, screaming and shouting and firing lasers.

They had brought guns and automatic weapons. I came out with my blade and somehow was able to slaughter all but five of them before the blade shattered. I had no choice but to use my built-in ion blasters, despite the fact that my energon reserves would be depleted.

I killed one. And then I was suddenly hit above the helm with something and forced to the ground, unable to wrench my arms free so I could continue my fight.

My helm hurt, and I was terrified.

Then one of them kicked the swell of my midsection, and I emitted a scream that I had no idea could come from my vocalizer.

In my spark I felt so much pain, but I was confused if it was either yours or your sire’s or possibly mine getting mixed up in there. Everything happened in such a slow fashion, and I wondered if your sire was dead. I hurt so much, felt so much agony, that I wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was.

The four survivors forced me to kneel on the ground. I can still remember in what spot. A little further right from the dead center of the berthroom, five steps away from the side of the large berth your sire and I shared. I cried and tried to curl into my frame but one or two of them grabbed me roughly and forced me to straighten my back while kneeling, and I felt the cold rim of a blaster barrel meet the back of my helm.

I remember being faintly aware of my visual field alerting me that a protocol had been triggered. It wasn’t until much later that I realized it was the emergence cycle.

And I remember feeling fear from your end.

I am so sorry that I did not have the presence of processor to shield you from my thoughts and my emotions. You had just been assaulted – you didn’t need your carrier’s emotions to add further weight to your young processor and spark.

I hoped that my offlined frame would be found with enough time to surgically remove you, so you would live. I hoped that your sire could see past his grief to raise you himself.

There was a horrible roar and the sound of a blade cutting through metal over, and over, and over, and over again. A familiar electromagnetic field washed over mine, and I was faintly aware of being cradled in strong arms.

The medical ward had been ransacked as well, but Ratchet and his mate Ironhide had managed to kill the small group of attackers. Ratchet ordered your sire to put me into one of the only rooms that had been left relatively unscathed and ordered Ironhide to stand guard outside, should any other mechs or femmes try to come through and kill the High Protector, the Prime, and their to-be-born offspring.

I was weak, so weak, and in so much pain that your sire told me I was pleading for Ratchet to save you before I could go offline.

Ratchet was going to manually remove you, but unknowingly to all of us I already reached full dilation, which was evidently sped up due to the trauma.

I remember pushing, crying, and screaming. I never wish to experience pain of that caliber in my life cycle again.

Your cry was not beautiful. It was loud and horrible because your intakes were still underdeveloped, so it was painful for you to make your first cry. I know other carriers say that their sparkling’s first wail is the most beautiful sound in the universe but I suppose those other sparklings had been born fully developed, with strong intakes, and trauma-free.

Your cry was reminiscent of a scream of pain.

I told your sire and Ratchet solar cycles later that I had been savagely kicked, which mean you had been as well. Megatron was furious, and Ratchet only sighed and put his helm in a servo, murmuring that that explained the faint traces physical trauma you had to your backplates. The trauma has since been relieved.

Despite my lack of strength I reached for you, and kissed your helm, sobbing. You, little one who had stolen my spark and grown within me, little one that had kicked my intakes and survived far enough to be born, were finally given a face I could look upon. My vocalizer could not form words then because I was so weak, but I internally begged you over and over to please be safe and to please forgive me.

I woke up a few solar cycles after, your sire hovering over me, and you in a small incubation chamber next to my berth.

Words cannot describe how relieved I was when he remembered to give you the name we had both agreed on.

I noticed that he did not put this in his entry, but after I slipped into emergency stasis and you were placed in the chamber, your sire went back to the ground level, killing every rebel under Waveblast that he came across. A cycle or so later, I’m told, the survivors had been placed in chains and locked in the underground cells.

A few guards did not survive the carnage. I wish I could report that they all survived.

When I woke from stasis I remember asking after Prowl, Ultra Magnus, Wheeljack, and many of our dear friends and advisors and heads of guards. They are all well, and even Ultra Magnus in his delicate state escaped unscathed. He and his sparkling are fine. I am happy that the stress and trauma of this ordeal had no ill effect on them, at least physically.

Cybertron is waiting for me to give the final order on what to do with the lives of those that ended some of our guards, and that nearly ended that of your sire’s, yours, and mine. There is a problem, however, in that the mere thought of giving an order seizes me with a very high level of panic. Even now my servos are beginning to shake. I will have to put this out of my thought processors.

For now I occupy myself with caring for you, Andromeda. Ratchet comes each solar cycle to check your progress and make certain that you won’t have to visit the medical bay again. I’d like to avoid that. You spend the first five solar cycles of your life in the ward and if it can be avoided, you won’t have to spend another full cycle in there.

I am going to attempt to recharge again. I hope I may be able to do so.

Or, perhaps not. You have just wakened because it is time for you to be fed.

\---Signed, your carrier


	17. Age: Forty-three solar cycles

_Age: Forty-three solar cycles_

It has been a while since I have written in this, Andromeda. And I have yet to decide the fates of those holed up in the cells. Your sire is getting impatient with me – he wants me to decree something _now_ , but I cannot.

He and I had a ferocious argument about it a few cycles ago. He said that precious resources are being wasted in keeping the scum of Cybertron alive in the cells, and that he worries that they might try to plan something.

If I do not decide what to do in the next three solar cycles, he will send out the order to have them executed without any input from me.

My processor tells me that the only reasonable outcome is for them to meet their ends. They almost killed you and your sire, and they put a blaster to my helm with the intent of ending my life. I am torn. I have never decreed that anyone be executed in my tenure as Prime, and I have had to stop your sire from killing multiple mechs and femmes over the many stellar cycles that we have been together.

I believe in second chances. Your sire says that my soft spark is my biggest flaw.

Primus, I am so torn.

You continue to grow stronger each passing solar cycle. Your optics are a clear shade of blue, and you are able to hold optical contact. And you have retained your ability to give a nasty kick, I might add. I suppose it is fitting that you inherited your sire’s pedes.

I spend my solar cycles with you, almost at your beck and call. I carry you around the Citadel, since you seem to like the walking a lot. You are a curious little one. When I take you into new places, or even ones that you have been in before, you look around with wide optics as if absorbing this new information.

When I see you doing this, I am reminded of my beginnings as a data clerk. I was hungry, always searching, for new information to absorb into the knowledge centers of my processor. I believe you would make a fine data clerk, following my steps. Professional investigators would also be a fine line of work for those with thirsty minds.

I cannot wait to teach you all that I know, and I cannot wait to see who you will grow to become.

But as of now, you are still a sparkling. For now I like to lie down on plush seats in the library, with you resting on my chassis, and read to you. You also seem to enjoy the familiar pulses of my spark against your frame, and the sound of my voice.

Ancient legends of Cybertron are my favorite to read to you. They seem to be your favorite too. I wonder if you faintly remember them from when I used to read them to you when you were still within the gestation chamber.

Your sire has just pinged me and asked for me to forgive him for yelling at me during the argument we were in a few cycles prior. I do. I cannot stay mad at him for very long, and I hope he never gives me a reason to stay mad at him for long.

I merely wish that I could make this decision with a clear processor.

He has also told me that the renovations to the berthroom that he and I shared are nearing completion. I hope I might be able to enter when they are done.

I still jump when I hear unfamiliarly loud noises. Flickering shadows set me on edge. I don’t appreciate having to live in fear.

\---signed, your carrier


	18. The Next Solar Cycle

_The next solar cycle_

Last night a guard was killed in the cells. The survivors of Waveblast’s clan tried to break out, but thankfully our automated sentries beat them back down. Two of the prisoners were deactivated in the process.

Your sire woke me when he bolted from the room in the middle of recharge to see what the fuss was, leaving you crying and me trying to soothe you as I waited for any news from him. When he came back and told me what had transpired, I began to shake and sob as memories of that night flooded back into my processor. He wrapped his arms around you and I, holding us close.

I woke up just now to him still holding me, sitting on the berth as I laid against him, and you placed back in your berth.

When I was able to stand I walked to your berth and picked you up, looking down at your sleeping face, and I remembered that my duty is to protect those that cannot protect themselves. You rely heavily on your sire and I for such protection.

As he said in his entry, your sire and I will do anything possible to protect you.

My decision has been made.

.-.-.

_Later that solar cycle_

With a pair of signatures, your sire and I have given the order and have sealed their fates.

We have given them a choice. They can be executed down in the cells, and have their bodies carted off to be buried under the darkness of night, or they can choose to be executed in public, in front of Cybertronians willing to see this. Your sire wants them to be executed publically. He wants them to be set as an example for those daring to bring harm to you and I.

I would rather they be killed in the dead of night, when I will be in recharge and not have to think about it. I would love to go into recharge tonight and wake up to news that they have all been deactivated.

I fear that no matter what they choose, a private or a public death, your sire and I will be blasted heavily for executing them in the first place.

It is a small comfort that those that tried to kill both you and I met their ends that night, so I will never face them again.

You will never see them. For that I am glad. I will always remember their faces, and their names. They haunt me so they don’t haunt you.

Wheeljack just came in and exchanged words with your sire and I, stating that no matter if the prisoners choose to be executed publically or privately, he wants to be amongst those in the firing squad. When your sire and I asked why, he said that he knows that the one mech at the head of the small group that tried to attack him and Ultra Magnus is still alive. He remembers the face and name.

And he would like to be the one to end the mech’s life.

Megatron nodded in approval.

This reminds me: Ultra Magnus is nearing the end of his carrying cycle, so your playmate will come soon. I imagine she will be absolutely beautiful, just as you are.

.-.-.

_Night_

The verdict has been reached amongst the prisoners.

So faithful are they to their cause that they believe themselves to be martyrs. They have chosen a public execution.

I will not be able to sleep tonight. I am sorry if I wake you with the copious amounts of stress and hysteria I am feeling at this moment.

I’m sorry.

\---signed, your carrier


	19. Age: Forty-eight solar cycles

_Age: Forty-eighth solar cycles_

A large weight has been lifted off of your sire’s and my shoulder struts. I feel like I am able to move about the Citadel moreso, your sire is in more pleasant spirits, and even you seem to have perceived the change in atmosphere. You chirp more and are a more agreeable sparkling.

I only wish it hadn’t come at such a cost.

It has been three solar cycles since that date.

When the solar cycle started, there were clouds that blocked Cybertron’s sun from shining its light onto the planet. I woke to your sire holding me, and you chirping quietly from your berth.

The cycles between waking up and walking outside to a large crowd of Iaconians is a blur. I only remember I asked Ratchet and Ultra Magnus to take care of you until I could come back, and they agreed.

There was a low murmur over the crowd assembled at the front steps of the Citadel, which I heard before I exited the large front doors, but the murmur died and was replaced with silence.

I felt everyone’s optics on me. Though no official announcement had been made, news travels quickly. They know a gist of what occurred that night, and they know that the trauma I endured triggered an emergence cycle. They know that you were born.

Part of my antennae was still broken at the time. I had been so concerned with other matters that I had neglected to ask Ratchet to reattach it.

I was slow in how I walked to the front to address the assembled crowd. I darted my optics around, watching for any sudden movement, watching for anything that could harm me, before I spoke aloud.

My speech was not recorded, nor do I recall the exact wording, but I distinctly remember that I spoke of that night. I spoke of how your sire and I had done what we could to placate those who followed such ideals, and how our attempts were rebuffed and our lives put on the line. When I spoke of how I was attacked, I sensed how crowd changed its collective tone. They had been listening to me speak, attentive and barely acknowledging the line of prisoners strolled out before them, but now they were hostile toward them.

It is a cowardly thing to continue to attack a carrying Cybertronian, even when they have been disarmed.

I remember I cleared my vocalizer and asked for silence. When it was granted, I spoke these words in exact:

“For the heinous deaths of the Citadel guards the night of the attempted attack, and for the attempts on the lives of my mate, the Lord High Protector Megatron, of my daughter Andromeda, and of mine, the prisoners and their leader will be executed, in public, by a firing squad. It is their wish that they be seen as martyrs for their cause by the public as a whole.”

I stepped back, coming next to your sire. He took my servo into his, and squeezed it in a show of solidarity and love.

I watched as the firing squad – Wheeljack was included, and so was Ironhide – stepped forward from the crowd and aimed their weapons at the prisoners. My processor told me to look away but I stayed and watched as they met their ends.

Ratchet told me that the quickest death is to the spark or to the processor. Those shot/stabbed in the spark or processor feel perhaps a nanoklik or two of pain before they expire.

Even now, I granted them a small mercy.

When I reentered the Citadel and retrieved you from Ultra Magnus and Ratchet, Wheeljack rushed in and tried his best to wrap his arms around Magnus (small femme in the way, after all) and said that he felt lighter in his spark.

My reason for picking this datapad up on this this date: to inform you in brief of what occurred at the execution, and to inform you that Magnus delivered a healthy little femme about a cycle ago. Ratchet forwarded an image capture to me of Magnus holding his daughter to his chassis, with Wheeljack kissing her helm.

I’ve never seen him look so happy. They have named her Athena. Wheeljack is smitten with his daughter. Magnus wrote to me that he has not put her down since he let Wheeljack hold her, and that he is very reluctant to return her.

As I am slowly beginning to take up my duties as Prime of Cybertron once more, I will be updating this less and less. I hope you will forgive me for not filling in more, once you are able to read this.

I am going to put the datapad down for a time. I am going to take you to meet your fellow sparkling. Hopefully the both of you will become friends as you get older.

\---signed, your carrier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be wrapping this up sometime in the next four to six chapters, and I will likely begin to put two/three "entries" in the same chapter.


	20. Age: one - three stellar cycles

_Age: one stellar cycle_

Well. I did say I would not be picking up this datapad for quite a while, didn’t I?

The memory of the night you were born has faded considerably, through much therapy. In fleeting I only remember how small you were and how much I cried upon seeing you. I have learned to focus only on how happy I was that you had finally arrived.

At times, however, I still wake up in fits of terror. They are not as frequent as they used to be. Over time they are slowly going away.

Each time I wake up terrified your sire is there to hold me and assure me that I am perfectly fine. Sometimes I will ask for you, and he will lead me to your nursery so I may see for myself that you are safe.

As expected, you have grown so much, and you are beginning to get to your pedes and toddle around for brief periods of time. You love to toddle after your sire, in particular. And you have sprouted what seem to be wings from your back plates.

Your sire has some Seeker in him, as do I, recessive traits that manifested in your genetic code. I am glad that at least your sire has a flight frame in his alternative mode, so when you begin to feel the itch to fly, he will be there to teach you.

The previous solar cycle was your first sparkday. We celebrated with energon cake and a small party, but many gifts arrived for you from around Cybertron. All duplicate sparkling toys were donated to sparkling homes around Cybertron.

Currently you and Athena are busy playing with blocks etched with Cybertronian script. Ultra Magnus had some business to tend to, so I was asked to watch over you both.

When you and Athena complete something that looks complete to your sparkling optics, you both chirp and babble at me, wanting me to look. I look and am impressed at how you both can collaborate to build something that many blocks high.

I will be ending this for now. We shall see when I can pick this up once more.

\---signed, your carrier

.-.-.

_Age: one and a half stellar cycles_

When I was carrying and reading texts about sparkling-hood, I remember reading a particular chapter about how when sparklings reached the age of about one and a half, to two, stellar cycles, they tend to become more aggressive, cranky, and prone to crying and tantrums.

I remember being told that my tantrums were easy to deal with, that I was easily placated. Your sire was never told how he was when he was a sparkling of this age. I hoped to Primus that you would take after me.

I believe you took after your sire instead.

Both you and Athena are going through this, though I am told that Athena’s tantrums are not as terrible as yours. You throw your blocks and various other toys around, hitting the walls and screaming when I don’t give you what you want. You run from me and your sire and throw your energon cubes at the floor when we refuse to give you sweetened energon.

In the middle of recharge your sire and I would suddenly feel your little pedes climbing over us, stepping on our faceplates. We took to keeping you locked outside during recharge time, whereas previously we kept the doors slightly ajar, but now we lay awake at night listening to you bang on the door, wanting to come in.

Your sire and I had decided to forego having guards outside our doors for a while, but I think now we will have to have them return to their posts.

Oh Primus, you have broken a datapad.

\---signed, your carrier

.-.-.

_Age: Three solar cycles_

Primus, I do not miss your tantrums and your terrible antics. You have calmed down considerably, and are far more affectionate. Just now you are sitting in my lap as I do work, curled close into my frame.

You are now able to walk, run, and you can now speak.

Your first clear word, or words, were “Servo hurts.” You had just bent the wrist at an odd angle, I remember, and I took you to Ratchet.  In the middle of him examining your servo and wrist joint, it hit me that you had just spoken your first clear words. Ratchet and I had a laugh when I told him what you had said.

Now you can speak fairly clearly, and you possess a large vocabulary for a youngling your age. I am so proud of you, as is your sire.

He enjoys taking you on inspections of the Citadel guards, putting you to sit on his shoulder struts, and walking around with you. Your presence seems to make most people happy. You are a very cheery sparkling.

Time flies by so fast, Andromeda. I did not realize it had been over a stellar cycle since I had last updated this datapad. I know I put that you are three stellar cycles, but in reality tomorrow is your third sparkday.

I cannot believe it is has been three stellar cycles already.

\--signed, your carrier


	21. Age: four - six stellar cycles

_Age: four stellar cycles_

I think I will make it a habit to at least update this on each of your sparkdays, until I feel that I have written enough to give to you.

Today is your fourth sparkday. I look at images of you on your first one, and I look at you now and am amazed that so much time has passed and that you have also grown so much. I suppose each carrier feels this way, that their sparkling is amazing, when all sparklings go through the same motions.

Your sire and I will be putting you in a local primary academy come registration time. He wanted for you to be tutored here, privately, but I said that you need to be socialized with younglings other than Athena and the still-too-young twin mechlings that Ratchet and Ironhide have had.

A few solar cycles after your third sparkday, I took you in for your annual checkup and Ratchet uttered a throwaway line, saying that he was tired of his sparklings sapping his energy. It took a moment for the comment to sink in to my processor, but when it did I asked him how Ironhide had reacted.

He hadn’t even told Ironhide at that time.

I was there when he told Ironhide a few solar cycles later, and caught Ironhide as his processor glitched and his legs gave out from under him.

They are named Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, though I know that the future you will make a face in indignation, miffed that I should tell you something that you will already know about.

It is strange. For a long time there had been no sparklings in the Citadel. The same halls that had once been quiet are now filled with yours and Athena’s giggles and laughs, and the patter of your pedes as you chase one another down the corridors. Soon it shall also be filled with the twins’ babbles and shrieks.

Megatron has left the decision of which academy up to me, as I grew up here and he didn’t. I would need one where you may be accompanied by at least two guards. I may send you to the academy I went to myself, but I am not sure how it ranks amongst the others in Iacon.

\---signed, your carrier

.-.-.

_Age: four and a half stellar cycles_

You are doing well in your class. Your instructor has praised your ability to learn new information and retain it. She has said you are a voracious reader.

It seems you do take after me.

Currently you are stretched out on a long seat in the library, bouncing your legs up and down as you hold a datapad over your helm to read it. I’ve warned you that the position can become uncomfortable and you might drop the datapad on your faceplates but you insist that you won’t lose your grip and drop it.

As you just did.

Is it terrible of me that I just had to laugh?

\---signed, your carrier

.-.-.

_Age: five stellar cycles_

You have grown more and more. You will be very tall when you are fully mature.

I asked Megatron when he had the itch in his wings, a sign that he needed to take to the sky, and he said that he never got it. He simply was thrown into the air as a youngling of about eight to nine stellar cycles and learned how to fly from that point on.

The reason I asked is because Ratchet and I did some reading into the habits of those with Seeker code, and it is around the time of their fifth to seventh stellar cycles that they begin feeling that so-called itch. If it goes unaddressed for long, meaning that the youngling is not taught to take to the skies, the youngling will become frustrated and begin to lash out.

Your sire and I surmised that he likely never felt the itch due to his grounder coding overruling his seeker coding most of the time.

We will be watching you very carefully to make sure you don’t start to lash out.

\---signed, your carrier

.-.-.

_Age: six stellar cycles (ten solar cycles after your sparkday)_

You flew today. I cannot describe how happy I was seeing you and your sire flying around the Citadel, him taking the lead and you trailing behind. Athena was standing next to me on the balcony and seemed rather jealous. You picked up on it because you swooped down and grabbed her, taking her flying with you.

I don't think she wants to go flying again.

\---signed, your carrier


	22. Age: Seven stellar cycles

_Age: seven stellar cycles_

Seven stellar cycles.

I reflected on my life cycle recently, recalling all the important moments. Starting with my first days as a data clerk, the moment I was appointed to be Prime, the moment I met your sire and when he asked me to bond with him. What stands out so vividly with the memory of bonding with your sire for the first time is the moment Ratchet came to me with a smile on his faceplates and a test in his servo, and confirmed that I was carrying.

I remember how Megatron and I felt. We were happy on a level that is beyond description.

I remember so vividly when I contracted a near-fatal rust infection early in my carrying cycle. I remember so vividly how frightened I was, thinking I was going to lose you. It was such a relief that those fears never came to pass.

Then I remember the night of your birth. I remember how terrified I was. I remember how I thought I was going to die and that you would not be saved in time. Your sire said he would have burned Cybertron to its core if we hadn’t lived. And I remember how you were born, how you screamed to let us know you were alive, and how I kissed you and begged your forgiveness that I hadn’t protected you as I should have.

The stellar cycles have passed by so quickly. Some solar cycles I wake up and walk to your berthroom, expecting to see you lying down in your sparkling berth and needing to be picked up, but then I walk in and see you splayed out on your berth, arms wrapped around soft mesh toys, piles of datapads and other trinkets scattered around your room.

I will be in my office working, and upon hearing tapping on the window I will turn around to see you hovering in mid-air, thrusters on your pedes keeping you in the air, and waving at me. It seems only a few solar cycles ago that you were still an infant, needing to be carried around.

Data clerk. Prime of Cybertron. Mate to the Lord High Protector of Cybertron. And carrier.

I am happy to have held, and currently hold, these titles.

You continue to grow each stellar cycle, more and more. You are tall for a youngling your age, reaching to my hip, and have long limbs and wide blue optics. Our servos are the same, as are the antennae that are present at the sides of our helms. Unfortunately your pedes are still large and awkward, just like your sire’s, but they are rather cute and charming because no longer do they kick at my intakes.

And neither do they kick me at night, as your sire’s pedes do.

Athena, though she is slightly younger than you, is much taller. She loves to lord this fact over you, which makes you angry. When she makes you angry you tackle her and sit on her chassis, refusing to get up, or you will grab her by the waist and take flight with her, playfully threatening to drop her from the tallest balcony.

Oh, messengers have arrived, from the Temple of Iacon.

We shall see when I resume writing.

\---signed, your carrier


	23. Ten Stellar Cycles

_Writer: Me, Andromeda, daughter of former High Protector Megatron and Optimus Prime of Cybertron  
My Age: I turned ten stellar cycles a few solar cycles ago!_

Carrier, you haven’t updated this in three stellar cycles. I’m surprised at you because you always make sure to update everything. You’re super into keeping things organized. This is weird for you.

I found this datapad tucked in a corner of one of your shelves in your office at the University. I think you left it there by accident without remembering it was there when we packed up our stuff and left the Citadel. It’s a good thing we had a solar cycle off from school or else I wouldn’t have been here to find it! I probably would have found it later on. It’s a good thing that you are in class lecturing right now and you left me alone in your office to color and read.

You said in your last entry something about mechs from the Temple coming to meet with you and sire. It was three stellar cycles ago that I remember what happened. Mechs from the Iacon temple came and said that Primus had come to them and that you and sire, after a long long time of being Prime and Lord High Protector, were now going to be replaced.

I was in my room reading something when you and sire came in with sad faces, sat me down, and told me that Cybertron was gonna be led by a new Prime and High Protector. We couldn’t stay at the Citadel because that was the residence of the chosen leaders of Cybertron.

I remember getting out of the Citadel a few solar cycles after that. Your library was the biggest and hardest thing to move because you had built up a huge amount of datapads when you were Prime! I remember what couldn’t fit at our new home, you donated to a lot of other libraries around Cybertron.

Cybertron was sad when you and sire stepped down. I heard a lot of mechs and femmes say that you and sire were the best High Protector and Prime that Cybertron had had in eons, and that they were sad to see you both step down. I was sad to be leaving because it was the only home I’d known. But then I thought to myself that at least I would be with you and sire.

You said that you and Sire first walked in there, alone and not knowing each other, and now you both were leaving together and with me. You walked in as a pair, and were leaving as three. I remember that made me feel good. We had to leave at night and under cover because if we left during the day a ton of mechs and femmes would have crowded around us and it would have taken forever to get out.

Athena hates the new Prime because he was always trying to get too friendly with her carrier, since her carrier and sire still work under the new Prime and High Protector. I don’t know really what “too friendly” means, but that’s the words that her sire uses – he thinks the new Prime’s an idiot. The new Prime stopped being too friendly when her carrier said that he was bonded and had a youngling, but every time Athena sees him she waits until he’s turned around with his backplates to her, and she sticks her glossa out at him.

I did that once and you got mad at me. I stopped but Athena won’t stop no matter how often her carrier tells her not to and he gets mad at her for it. Her sire approves of it.

Ratchet and Ironhide haven’t said anything about the new Prime and High Protector, but the twins say that they miss you and sire. I wish they were the same age as Athena and me and that we were in the same classes. Oh well.

You got a job as a lecturer over government at the University of Iacon. Sire works as a union leader for miners and other mechs and femmes that do hard labor like he used to. I think when he’s gone for a few solar cycles he’s working down there with them too. He also has had some poetry published, but under a different name. He got offered a job leading Cybertron’s army but he turned it down. You said that he’d had enough of armies for a long while and that he just wanted some peace to enjoy being with us.

He likes to read his poetry to you and me. He writes a lot of poetry about you, saying how wonderful you are, but one solar cycle ago he read one that he wrote for me! My tenth sparkday was a few solar cycles ago and he said he was going to read it to me then, but that he couldn’t get the words right. But I loved it! Even though it was a few solar cycles late.

He called me a bright star in the night sky, saying that I was equally as bright as you because you and I are the two loves of his life cycle.

I think when you read this he’ll already have read it to you. I hope you like it because I did!

You and sire are always telling me how much you love me (though sire doesn’t really say it, but he says it when he lets me hear his poetry before anyone else, when he lets me sit on his shoulders while he’s working, and when he takes me out flying). But I think now I know how much you and sire really wanted me because I read this datapad. I’m happy I have you and sire as my creators. You both really do love me.

I can’t believe that you and I went through a whole lot together before I was born. When you say that I’m a fighter, I know what you mean now.

I think I’ve been writing in this datapad for too long already because I hear you calling for me. You must have gotten out of your lecture. You sound really tired, like you wanna go home.

I think I’m gonna stick this datapad in a drawer of your desk that you open a lot to get files out of, so you can see it. When you see the datapad and get to read my note, I hope you tell me what you thought of it.

\---Andromeda

P.S.: I love you carrier!


End file.
